The 2009-10 season has been a disaster for Liverpool Football Club. There's no other word to describe how this season has gone, right from the first friendly games to last night's FA Cup exit at the hands of a side struggling to win in the second tier of English football. No doubt every football correspondent across Europe will be commenting on this, but I feel I must vent my ire through this post.
The Press and most casual fans around the world have been narrowing the reasons for the debacle to two - the tactics employed by Rafael Benitez and the loss of midfield maestro Xabi Alonso. Having watched every moment of Liverpool over the last five seasons (and followed them for the last fifteen), there are several things that stand out this season.
First, the team cannot handle an opposition that presses them. Last night's game was the perfect demonstration of this. There were periods of the game when Reading showed Liverpool respect and allowed them time and space on the ball. Those were the periods when Liverpool strung together some passes and created half-chances. But the moment Reading started hassling for possession, Liverpool cracked. Similarly, Liverpool looked awesome against Manchester United and during the first half against Arsenal because these teams stood off Liverpool everywhere except in their own defensive third. I cannot understand the lack of composure. There are only a handful of players - Gerrard, Torres, Benayoun and Aquilani - who have a convincing first touch. The rest of them - especially Babel, Lucas, Kuyt and Ngog - seem to need at least two touches and three yards of space to get the ball under control. That's unacceptable at the level at which Liverpool aspire to play. Further, once they have the ball, they take ages to weigh up their options and decide where the ball must go, by which time two or three opposition players have swooped down upon the man in possession and the end result is a loss of possession or a brainless pass or a over-weighted pass that puts the recipient under further pressure.
Secondly, there is an alarming lack of fitness in the squad. A large injury list is only partially the result of bad luck. Last night against Reading, Torres received a run-of-the-mill hard tackle and Gerrard made a stretch that was only slightly beyond a normal stretch. That's it. Both men needed to be taken off. Players like Agger and Aurelio have never been able to overcome their niggles. Riera's hamstring is taking an extraordinarily long time to heal. Benayoun cannot last more than 75 to 80 minutes without looking pale as a ghost due to exhaustion. Babel has lost his only real asset - his pace. Even a hard man like Mascherano is taking a long time to recover from injury. Does the club lack a good fitness coach? If yes, then are their financial troubles so much that they cannot engage one?
Thirdly, Rafa has a hangover from last season. The successful template of last season included a 4-2-3-1 formation with Mascherano the terrier protecting the passer Alonso in the heart of midfield, much like a NFL-style quarterback. The template also included Alonso as a classy midfield playmaker, with tons of composure, awareness and the ability to whip 50 yard passes with pinpoint accuracy. Unfortunately, the template cannot work without Alonso in there. It was his personal ability to play that deep lying playmaker role. Unfortunately, neither Lucas nor Aquilani can play the same role as Alonso, each for their own reasons. Lucas is a battling midfielder not unlike Mascherano. Aquilani is more suited to a pass-and-move style of play than as a stand-and-deliver distributor of long balls - in fact in Italy he is regarded as the heir to Totti's throne, and Totti is one of the best desequilibrante players, not a deep lying playmaker. Gerrard could play just behind Torres because Alonso's raking long balls bridged the gap between midfield and attack, but with all three of Lucas, Mascherano and Aquilani preferring to remain deep and preferring a short passing game, Gerrard is forced to come deeper to play a part in the game, thus isolating Torres or Ngog up front. The players and the strengths they possess have changed from last season, but Rafa still prefers to employ the same template. The end results are twofold - the passing and formation are failing, and the individuals involved are getting stick for not performing a role that is basically unsuited to them.
Fourthly, the mental side of Liverpool's game has touched alarming depths. Somehow, nearly no one on the pitch has much awareness, both positional as well as awareness of their teammates around them. The fullbacks are nearly always out of position. None of Babel, Lucas, Riera, Insua or Ngog has any mental side to their game. Babel and Ngog run blind and shoot wild. Insua is one-dimensional and has even less of a right foot than Riise ever did. Skrtel is a typical bully defender - all brawn. It's no wonder that the zonal marking system has put Liverpool in trouble so often - it's a tough tactic to learn and needs tremendous concentration and awareness to employ successfully. Apparently, "teamwork" is not a word that's used in Melwood. Insua's ineptness has cost us dearly this season. He has utterly failed to learn with time and repeatedly finds himself in a dilemma whether to close down the winger or cover the inside channel. His anticipation and positional awareness are abysmal. Similarly, Babel has never been able to decide whether to run down the line or cut inside, or even whether to pass or shoot. For a man touted to be the next Thierry Henry, he carries a shocking arrogance and an unwillingness to be a student of the game.
I feel that the most pressing need of the hour is to get an experienced player who can calm things down on the field and make players take charge of their individual games. Sami Hyypia is sorely missed for this reason alone. Such a player wouldn't carry a marquee price tag; so it's not beyond the club's financial means. It is also imperative this player knows a thing or two about English football culture in general and Liverpool Football Club in particular, because no one except Carragher and Gerrard play with any passion for the badge. Who is this player? If you have an idea, please do let Rafa and the Americans know.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Monday, December 28, 2009
Indian employees run for cover, at-will employment knocks at the door
I had posted many moons ago on this blog that most people employed at India's new-age service industries are either ignorant about their rights as employees, or reluctant to do anything to exercise or even enjoy them. Now the Bombay High Court has given them a real strong reason to run for cover. In a judgement that will no doubt have far-reaching consequences, Justice Chandrachud (a second-generation judge, much celebrated in judicial circles) has just blown open the employer-employee relationship in India and taken it a giant leap closer to what every software company, multinational bank and call centre in India wants - at-will employment.
The judiciary has always been polarized when it comes to judging employment law cases. Individual judges are known to be either strongly pro-worker or strongly pro-management. This has resulted in a complex mass of varying judgements, leading to a confused jurisprudence in this unglamorous field of law. Yet, I can safely state that the Supreme Court has, on an average over the decades, displayed a greater compassion for the poor worker than it has for the mean old management. This latest judgement threatens to buck the trend and take India's labour jurisprudence into 21st century (or is it mid-18th century England) free market capitalism.
The facts of the case are important if only to understand how closely it resembles the professional lives of most people in the services industries today. The offer letter that confers an unduly exalted job title, the job description which is so vaguely worded that the exact scope of one's duties cannot be figured by just reading the verbiage, the employee's silent acceptance of all terms without having any choice or leverage to suggest alternative terms (no, really, you have no choice at all - it's the employer's way or the highway), the employee getting to do a job that's very different from that explained in the job description, and vague performance parameters that get invoked and interpreted arbitrarily. The employee in this case got fired inside one month of her joining the company, without any chance to be heard and without any more explanation forthcoming from the management than "poor performance".
Indian labour laws extend their protection to "workmen", and as a rule, a workman must not perform duties of managerial or supervisory nature. For some not-very-rational reason, labour laws have been interpreted such that "not managerial" is synonymous with "clerical", and in the authoritative judgement on this issue, the Supreme Court has said that "clerical" means work of a routine nature without the excessive usage of one's grey cells. Going by this line of reasoning, the average software engineer, or call centre employee, or telemarketer for a financial institution would be a "workman" receiving the protection of labour laws in India. As the Indian judiciary has repeated itself on a number of occasions, a manager's job involves the use of discretion in day-to-day work, supervision over a team of people or at least the authority to bind the company through decisions which they make.
Admittedly, the aggrieved employee had none of these privileges. The management's own witnesses agreed with that. Even the trial court agreed with the employee. Yet, the exalted judge at the Bombay High Court disagreed. His logic was something like this:
Premise A - The employee's offer letter sets out duties which may, by a stretch of one's rational or logical thought, involve the use of discretion and non-complex decision making. The employee also accepted these terms by signing on the dotted line.
Premise B - The employee has produced more than sufficient evidence to show that the work she did was mundane, routine and entirely devoid of thought requirements.
Conclusion - The employee did perform all those tasks which were set out in her offer letter, and hence, she is performing managerial functions. Therefore, she enjoys no protection under the labour laws of this land, and her destiny is subject to the will of her employers.
Besides obvious fallacies in the logic of the decision, this judgement contains several points of interest and indeed, several reasons to be afraid:
Firstly, companies can now roll out offer letters that describe the job in as vague and wide a manner as possible. Perhaps the janitor and the CEO can be provided with the same job description. In any case, no employee can edit the thing. This will make everyone a manager and therefore, beyond the purview of the labour laws.
Secondly, no matter how quotidian one's job is, no one in the services sector will ever be an outright "workman". There will always be an argument that any given employee is in a managerial function.
Thirdly and most crucially, it takes the entire labour jurisprudence a giant leap backwards. I have always strongly believed that productive engagement of employee unions, extending the protection of labour benefits and industrial relations laws to all employees irrespective of their salaries or exact nature of duties, and interpretation of labour laws to the benefit of the employee is the perfect recipe for having a responsible and motivated workforce. In urban India today, the cost of losing a job is too high and this has an alarming correlation to rising crime rate, health problems and family problems in our largest cities. This judgement provides more scope for arbitrariness in management decisions, and this would in the long run be counterproductive for the employer.
Is this what is meant by "liberalization" of India's labour laws? I sincerely hope not...
[Ref: Case in point is Standard Chartered Bank v. Vandana Joshi, decided on 17 December, 2009]
The judiciary has always been polarized when it comes to judging employment law cases. Individual judges are known to be either strongly pro-worker or strongly pro-management. This has resulted in a complex mass of varying judgements, leading to a confused jurisprudence in this unglamorous field of law. Yet, I can safely state that the Supreme Court has, on an average over the decades, displayed a greater compassion for the poor worker than it has for the mean old management. This latest judgement threatens to buck the trend and take India's labour jurisprudence into 21st century (or is it mid-18th century England) free market capitalism.
The facts of the case are important if only to understand how closely it resembles the professional lives of most people in the services industries today. The offer letter that confers an unduly exalted job title, the job description which is so vaguely worded that the exact scope of one's duties cannot be figured by just reading the verbiage, the employee's silent acceptance of all terms without having any choice or leverage to suggest alternative terms (no, really, you have no choice at all - it's the employer's way or the highway), the employee getting to do a job that's very different from that explained in the job description, and vague performance parameters that get invoked and interpreted arbitrarily. The employee in this case got fired inside one month of her joining the company, without any chance to be heard and without any more explanation forthcoming from the management than "poor performance".
Indian labour laws extend their protection to "workmen", and as a rule, a workman must not perform duties of managerial or supervisory nature. For some not-very-rational reason, labour laws have been interpreted such that "not managerial" is synonymous with "clerical", and in the authoritative judgement on this issue, the Supreme Court has said that "clerical" means work of a routine nature without the excessive usage of one's grey cells. Going by this line of reasoning, the average software engineer, or call centre employee, or telemarketer for a financial institution would be a "workman" receiving the protection of labour laws in India. As the Indian judiciary has repeated itself on a number of occasions, a manager's job involves the use of discretion in day-to-day work, supervision over a team of people or at least the authority to bind the company through decisions which they make.
Admittedly, the aggrieved employee had none of these privileges. The management's own witnesses agreed with that. Even the trial court agreed with the employee. Yet, the exalted judge at the Bombay High Court disagreed. His logic was something like this:
Premise A - The employee's offer letter sets out duties which may, by a stretch of one's rational or logical thought, involve the use of discretion and non-complex decision making. The employee also accepted these terms by signing on the dotted line.
Premise B - The employee has produced more than sufficient evidence to show that the work she did was mundane, routine and entirely devoid of thought requirements.
Conclusion - The employee did perform all those tasks which were set out in her offer letter, and hence, she is performing managerial functions. Therefore, she enjoys no protection under the labour laws of this land, and her destiny is subject to the will of her employers.
Besides obvious fallacies in the logic of the decision, this judgement contains several points of interest and indeed, several reasons to be afraid:
Firstly, companies can now roll out offer letters that describe the job in as vague and wide a manner as possible. Perhaps the janitor and the CEO can be provided with the same job description. In any case, no employee can edit the thing. This will make everyone a manager and therefore, beyond the purview of the labour laws.
Secondly, no matter how quotidian one's job is, no one in the services sector will ever be an outright "workman". There will always be an argument that any given employee is in a managerial function.
Thirdly and most crucially, it takes the entire labour jurisprudence a giant leap backwards. I have always strongly believed that productive engagement of employee unions, extending the protection of labour benefits and industrial relations laws to all employees irrespective of their salaries or exact nature of duties, and interpretation of labour laws to the benefit of the employee is the perfect recipe for having a responsible and motivated workforce. In urban India today, the cost of losing a job is too high and this has an alarming correlation to rising crime rate, health problems and family problems in our largest cities. This judgement provides more scope for arbitrariness in management decisions, and this would in the long run be counterproductive for the employer.
Is this what is meant by "liberalization" of India's labour laws? I sincerely hope not...
[Ref: Case in point is Standard Chartered Bank v. Vandana Joshi, decided on 17 December, 2009]
Thursday, October 08, 2009
The Party Animal
I once had a long argument with R about what a party is. Everyone seems to have an opinion on parties. "Oh, I love partying". "Man, I attend the coolest parties in town". "Dude, I'm booked on Friday night - there's this party happening with karaoke". Personally, I don't see what the hoopla is all about.
I begin with the worst form of party - the office party. It's supposedly your employer's way of showing that it cares for your work-life balance. Somehow, everyone is presumed to enjoy eating at flashy restaurants, and everyone is presumed to be a hard-drinking party animal. Usually, the boss and the long-serving employees get piss drunk, scream out loud along with the blaring Bollywood music, shake their (substantial) tummies around the table and crack horrible jokes. Then the old-timers gossip the same gossip they gossiped about three years ago. The newbies are scared - what will they reveal to their boss, who will force them to get drunk, how do they react if their boss asks them for a dance. Then there are the ones who hate the whole thing; they will sit quietly at the end of the table and eat finger food all evening. A few critical points to note - attendance is compulsory, especially if you are a newbie; jokes that attack your personal life (especially relationships and sex) are the best and safest jokes; strictly no honest opinions about work and your boss must be expressed.
Then there are the random parties. There's a crowd of a dozen people headbanging away to obscenely loud rock music. Everyone knows a maximum of one other person in that group. Everyone is to be addressed as "dude". Your standing in the eyes of the others is determined by how many parties you have attended in the past week. You find that one other guy who wants a beer as badly as you do and you stick to him throughout the evening, both of you shoulder-barging your way through the crowded floor to the bar. The hot chick in the strapless dress is the target for every man, single or attached, but she is more committed to her drink than anything else. Food is ordered by anyone and everyone, and plates of random stuff are passed around to everyone. Few words are spoken, and sentences always begin with "Err... What did you say your name was, dude?" The exception, of course, is the hot chick - everyone knows her name, her dad's job, her brand of perfume and the date of her next period.
Next in line are the private parties. This usually follows a random party, if you have made the cutoff of 17 parties in the past one week. The guy whispers into your ear or sends you a text message with the invitation. The venue has no furniture - just bean bags and mattresses on the floor. The booze is only beer, vodka and, if you are exceptionally lucky, whisky. Food is pizza or junk ordered from the take-out round the corner. A basketball game runs on mute on the TV - note that cricket and football are for the masses, only the uber-cool American games are allowed. One gang of people is in the balcony, and the air there smells strange. That's pot luck for you. The hot chick is slightly more amenable to a conversation. Just when you think you are approaching jackpot, the hunk in the Benetton pullover whisks her away to one of the bedrooms and shuts the door behind them. By the time anyone realises, everyone is drunk and it's 5 AM.
The best is reserved for the last. These are the parties which you go to with your best friends from college, especially those who live in a different city. Everyone knows everyone's best and worst habits. Everyone knows exactly which girls or guys they dated and why the breakup happened. There are nearly no secrets. The objective is to make noise, and plenty of it. The venue is a comfortable middle-class pub where the music is classic rock and not too loud. Discussing work is completely forbidden. Discussing the "good old days" is a necessity. Singing along to the songs is appreciated, but asking an unwilling person for a dance is not. Jokes are outright silly, or dependent on wordplay. Everyone gets drunk, but remains cheerful and an integral part of the party. You leave the party wondering when you will have such a good time again.
What was the point of all that? I guess it just puts things in perspective. Firstly, no booze, no party. Example, your neighbour kid's third birthday celebration. Secondly, it would have been a much better idea to sink into your couch at home and catch the Saturday evening game. No matter what kind of party. Third, college days are the best. Cheap food, cheap clothes, cheap booze, cheap jokes, priceless fun.
I begin with the worst form of party - the office party. It's supposedly your employer's way of showing that it cares for your work-life balance. Somehow, everyone is presumed to enjoy eating at flashy restaurants, and everyone is presumed to be a hard-drinking party animal. Usually, the boss and the long-serving employees get piss drunk, scream out loud along with the blaring Bollywood music, shake their (substantial) tummies around the table and crack horrible jokes. Then the old-timers gossip the same gossip they gossiped about three years ago. The newbies are scared - what will they reveal to their boss, who will force them to get drunk, how do they react if their boss asks them for a dance. Then there are the ones who hate the whole thing; they will sit quietly at the end of the table and eat finger food all evening. A few critical points to note - attendance is compulsory, especially if you are a newbie; jokes that attack your personal life (especially relationships and sex) are the best and safest jokes; strictly no honest opinions about work and your boss must be expressed.
Then there are the random parties. There's a crowd of a dozen people headbanging away to obscenely loud rock music. Everyone knows a maximum of one other person in that group. Everyone is to be addressed as "dude". Your standing in the eyes of the others is determined by how many parties you have attended in the past week. You find that one other guy who wants a beer as badly as you do and you stick to him throughout the evening, both of you shoulder-barging your way through the crowded floor to the bar. The hot chick in the strapless dress is the target for every man, single or attached, but she is more committed to her drink than anything else. Food is ordered by anyone and everyone, and plates of random stuff are passed around to everyone. Few words are spoken, and sentences always begin with "Err... What did you say your name was, dude?" The exception, of course, is the hot chick - everyone knows her name, her dad's job, her brand of perfume and the date of her next period.
Next in line are the private parties. This usually follows a random party, if you have made the cutoff of 17 parties in the past one week. The guy whispers into your ear or sends you a text message with the invitation. The venue has no furniture - just bean bags and mattresses on the floor. The booze is only beer, vodka and, if you are exceptionally lucky, whisky. Food is pizza or junk ordered from the take-out round the corner. A basketball game runs on mute on the TV - note that cricket and football are for the masses, only the uber-cool American games are allowed. One gang of people is in the balcony, and the air there smells strange. That's pot luck for you. The hot chick is slightly more amenable to a conversation. Just when you think you are approaching jackpot, the hunk in the Benetton pullover whisks her away to one of the bedrooms and shuts the door behind them. By the time anyone realises, everyone is drunk and it's 5 AM.
The best is reserved for the last. These are the parties which you go to with your best friends from college, especially those who live in a different city. Everyone knows everyone's best and worst habits. Everyone knows exactly which girls or guys they dated and why the breakup happened. There are nearly no secrets. The objective is to make noise, and plenty of it. The venue is a comfortable middle-class pub where the music is classic rock and not too loud. Discussing work is completely forbidden. Discussing the "good old days" is a necessity. Singing along to the songs is appreciated, but asking an unwilling person for a dance is not. Jokes are outright silly, or dependent on wordplay. Everyone gets drunk, but remains cheerful and an integral part of the party. You leave the party wondering when you will have such a good time again.
What was the point of all that? I guess it just puts things in perspective. Firstly, no booze, no party. Example, your neighbour kid's third birthday celebration. Secondly, it would have been a much better idea to sink into your couch at home and catch the Saturday evening game. No matter what kind of party. Third, college days are the best. Cheap food, cheap clothes, cheap booze, cheap jokes, priceless fun.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Hello! Do you understand me?
Today began like any other Sunday. The eyes opened at half past nine, but still felt droopy. I dragged myself down for breakfast and turned on the telly. As is my habit, I went to the sports channels first, and saw a ten year old girl attempting to spell "ostentatious" (Yes, that's anoher Indian show copied from a successful American TV series). The aptness of the word for the situation apart, it got me thinking. What is the purpose of having words in the dictionary which only a miniscule fraction of even native English speakers know the existence of?
I remember a panel from the comic "Obelix & Co". The highly educated and talented young economist Caius Preposterus tells the rustic menhir delivery man Obelix "If you can't increase the efficiency of your productivity infrastructure, the market will fall" and receives a glazed-eyed response "UH?" That, in short, is a quick lesson on bad communication. A couple of my friends are absolute masters of the English language, but they find it hard not to use a ten-letter word in every sentence they speak. It's something which I have never understood. It's all fine to wax eloquent and use four words when one would have sufficed, but is it really efficient? Does it achieve the purpose of writing or speaking in the first place?
As a lawyer, I must be the last person on Earth to be taking such objections to such grandiose vocabulary, for my brethren hold the unenviable reputation of always attempting to confuse the rest of the populace through the use of two-hundred word sentences. However, I find no percentage in it. If I can't convince a client to cough up my fees in plain English, I don't see how a note that reads, "This is to hereby notify you that a sum of Rupees Four Lakhs only has remained unpaid as a result of your conscious, deliberate, calculated, premeditated, predesigned, predeceased, purposeful, willful and express acts and omissions which are set out in the Schedule hereunder, and your failure to make good all payments outstanding whatsoever and accruing in whatsoever manner without limitation shall give me no option but to exercise any and all means at my disposal, including but not limited to legal action, to move for the recovery of the aforesaid outstanding payments from you, your legal heirs, permitted assigns, successors, agents and representatives" will do the trick. (PS: That reminds me. There is a word out of place in there somewhere. A chocolate for every person that points it out to me.)
Our modern corporate world is no better. I received an email recently: "Dear Anirudh, It will be a pleasure to touch base with you in Bangalore, as I will be telecommuting next week. It is so nice to see someone stepping up to the plate at such short notice. I had been out of the loop on developments, but now we can strategize how we can move forward. We need to build synergies and create value items. My plate is empty, so fill me in on any new ideas which you may have. Regards, xxx" I don't know the origins of any of the phrases above, but everyone in the corporate world needs to have an instinctive habit of spewing any old nonsense in order to sound right. Anyone who says, "Let's meet for a coffee and chat when I am in Bangalore" is either unsophisticated or is trying to curry favours with you.
The gist is I like to keep it simple. The erudite in us demands that we use ostentatious (there's that word again) language, but the real requisite is to be lucid. Curses! The habit's catching. I had better end this before I turn magniloquent.
I remember a panel from the comic "Obelix & Co". The highly educated and talented young economist Caius Preposterus tells the rustic menhir delivery man Obelix "If you can't increase the efficiency of your productivity infrastructure, the market will fall" and receives a glazed-eyed response "UH?" That, in short, is a quick lesson on bad communication. A couple of my friends are absolute masters of the English language, but they find it hard not to use a ten-letter word in every sentence they speak. It's something which I have never understood. It's all fine to wax eloquent and use four words when one would have sufficed, but is it really efficient? Does it achieve the purpose of writing or speaking in the first place?
As a lawyer, I must be the last person on Earth to be taking such objections to such grandiose vocabulary, for my brethren hold the unenviable reputation of always attempting to confuse the rest of the populace through the use of two-hundred word sentences. However, I find no percentage in it. If I can't convince a client to cough up my fees in plain English, I don't see how a note that reads, "This is to hereby notify you that a sum of Rupees Four Lakhs only has remained unpaid as a result of your conscious, deliberate, calculated, premeditated, predesigned, predeceased, purposeful, willful and express acts and omissions which are set out in the Schedule hereunder, and your failure to make good all payments outstanding whatsoever and accruing in whatsoever manner without limitation shall give me no option but to exercise any and all means at my disposal, including but not limited to legal action, to move for the recovery of the aforesaid outstanding payments from you, your legal heirs, permitted assigns, successors, agents and representatives" will do the trick. (PS: That reminds me. There is a word out of place in there somewhere. A chocolate for every person that points it out to me.)
Our modern corporate world is no better. I received an email recently: "Dear Anirudh, It will be a pleasure to touch base with you in Bangalore, as I will be telecommuting next week. It is so nice to see someone stepping up to the plate at such short notice. I had been out of the loop on developments, but now we can strategize how we can move forward. We need to build synergies and create value items. My plate is empty, so fill me in on any new ideas which you may have. Regards, xxx" I don't know the origins of any of the phrases above, but everyone in the corporate world needs to have an instinctive habit of spewing any old nonsense in order to sound right. Anyone who says, "Let's meet for a coffee and chat when I am in Bangalore" is either unsophisticated or is trying to curry favours with you.
The gist is I like to keep it simple. The erudite in us demands that we use ostentatious (there's that word again) language, but the real requisite is to be lucid. Curses! The habit's catching. I had better end this before I turn magniloquent.
Sunday, June 07, 2009
The Thrill of the Chase
She glanced at her watch for the seventh time in five minutes. As if history lectures weren't boring enough as they were, this professor wanted to conduct "extra" classes on Saturday afternoons to catch up with the syllabus. Extra classes were where your parents thought you were while you dried your eyes on Rohan's shoulder while watching Shah Rukh Khan and Karan Johar spin the latest tale of woe and love. They were not meant to happen, you know. TRRING! The harbinger of freedom rang loud and long, heralding an evening with Rohan.
She grabbed her bag and ran out of the building. He would have gladly picked her up from college, but she did not trust her classmates to keep mum about him. Instead, she walked for a fair distance and stood in the calming shade of the large Gulmohar. She glanced at her watch again; it was 3.30. Where was he? Why wasn't he here yet? Does he remember they were to meet today? She couldn't call him because she had spent the last of her prepaid currency arguing with him the night before. 3.45. She was getting desperate. It was not like him to be late for a date. Had she told him off too harshly? Had he taken her angry words seriously? Will he never love her the same way again? She couldn't even call him to apologise.
4.00. She was nearly in tears. OH! What was that? A flash of red and green streaked past her eyes. When the streak settled she saw the most beautiful bouquet of red roses in front of her. She heard his voice from behind her, "Surprise!" This moment of sudden joy followed half an hour of frustration and anxiety, and it was too much for her. A lone droplet traced a joyous path over her cheek into the side of her mouth. Her arms moved as though on remote control and wrapped themselves around his neck. "Thank you so much!! I was so anxious!" He merely smiled and led her by her hand into his car.
She was late getting home. Her father gave her a look which said, "I don't know you". Her mother asked her a hundred questions. Why are you so late? Why did you have to wait for the direct bus only? Why is your history teacher such a sadist (a point which she gladly agreed with her mom, though)? Don't you know that good girls are back home before dark? She was hungry. But her father stepped in. "No food for you tonight. Somehow, I don't think you like history all that much." Mother looked aghast. How could her daughter sleep without dinner? The atmosphere was thick with tension. Father knew, but didn't say it out aloud.
She quietly went up to her room and picked up a book to read. She had spent her evening watching a movie and then they had driven to the hilltop to watch the sun go down. She quickly closed the book she was reading. Her stomach was rumbling with hunger, but she slept with a smile on her face. Her sacrifice was not in vain. The thrill of the chase was worth it.
She grabbed her bag and ran out of the building. He would have gladly picked her up from college, but she did not trust her classmates to keep mum about him. Instead, she walked for a fair distance and stood in the calming shade of the large Gulmohar. She glanced at her watch again; it was 3.30. Where was he? Why wasn't he here yet? Does he remember they were to meet today? She couldn't call him because she had spent the last of her prepaid currency arguing with him the night before. 3.45. She was getting desperate. It was not like him to be late for a date. Had she told him off too harshly? Had he taken her angry words seriously? Will he never love her the same way again? She couldn't even call him to apologise.
4.00. She was nearly in tears. OH! What was that? A flash of red and green streaked past her eyes. When the streak settled she saw the most beautiful bouquet of red roses in front of her. She heard his voice from behind her, "Surprise!" This moment of sudden joy followed half an hour of frustration and anxiety, and it was too much for her. A lone droplet traced a joyous path over her cheek into the side of her mouth. Her arms moved as though on remote control and wrapped themselves around his neck. "Thank you so much!! I was so anxious!" He merely smiled and led her by her hand into his car.
She was late getting home. Her father gave her a look which said, "I don't know you". Her mother asked her a hundred questions. Why are you so late? Why did you have to wait for the direct bus only? Why is your history teacher such a sadist (a point which she gladly agreed with her mom, though)? Don't you know that good girls are back home before dark? She was hungry. But her father stepped in. "No food for you tonight. Somehow, I don't think you like history all that much." Mother looked aghast. How could her daughter sleep without dinner? The atmosphere was thick with tension. Father knew, but didn't say it out aloud.
She quietly went up to her room and picked up a book to read. She had spent her evening watching a movie and then they had driven to the hilltop to watch the sun go down. She quickly closed the book she was reading. Her stomach was rumbling with hunger, but she slept with a smile on her face. Her sacrifice was not in vain. The thrill of the chase was worth it.
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